M-a-t-e
by Glorioux
Summary: Poor Hermione, Fenrir Greyback has found his witch, she just doesn't know it, yet. He's leaving trails of scared beaus. Fenrir is a reinvented-arrogant-crafty-legally-employed wolf, in charge of a motley crew of barely-reformed former DE. Fenrir is vain, vindictive, violent, volatile, and madly in love. Moto: "Rivals need not to apply." A hot, less serious fic. Mature readers only.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer. JKR Owns the HP universe. I want to thank her for letting me play with them. I own the story and any critters I have brought to life.**

This story will address adult situations, and it is indented for mature audiences. Please respect this. It might depict graphic love scenes between a reinvented-arrogant-crafty legally employed wolf and a witch. Fenrir is vain, vindictive, violent, and volatile…and madly in love. His Moto: Rivals need not to apply.

Knockturn Alley is changing, for the best- Time frame after DH.

Questions to be answered: Is the George's new "Happy Kittens" line, targeted for the modern witch, responsible for the well heeled impresario's new look? How does his new found prosperity affect the lives of Weasleys? Wait, is that Fenrir dressed in the dark WWW security Robes? Why is Greg Goyle dressed as a military thug? And are those the snatchers who caught the trio?Do we see the respectable Molly Weasley going in and out the doors of a sinful factory? Is she playing a part on the new "mature witch line"? Why is everyone smiling? Who are the "bad guys"? And, what constitutes a payoff? Nobody seems to have an answer. Maybe is time that we find out, shall we?

* * *

**WWW's Amigos**

**Prologue**

**Strike 1**

Harry and Ron had tried a triad with their petite friend, and the golden trio moved in together. Their romance started six months after the DH battle; and they were happy for a while; however, it was their mutual jealousy (Harry's and Ron's) about any other witch, wizard or Muggle that caused their break up.

While they lived together, they had by-weekly family meetings, organized by Hermione, to talk about 'their feelings,' "Ron, Harry, darlings, I think it is good if we save time aside to air out any problems, concerns, or whatever, maybe by-weekly is a good idea, are you in?"

Within six months, two of the voting members had voted to keep their witch home, no more university, no apprenticeships, and a tight schedule to have a 'nice large family.'

Molly came to visit her when she knew the two lovers were not at home, "Dear, the two fools are killing you, one or the other, this is just too much. They need to first grow up. I vote that you wait for a nice, older wizard." She hugged the too-thin-witch, she had lost nearly 9 kilo (20 Lbs), and was not looking well.

"I love them, but they want too much, and they are keeping me in a prison, what should do?" Hermione said between sobs.

Arthur was happy to hear about Molly's initiative, he as a male, had recently been forbidden to talk to Hermione, by his own son, "Dad, please stop coming to visit Hermione. I don't know what your game is, but do me a favor, stay away from her, or I will tell Mom. I saw when you hugged her."

And to worsen the sting, Harry approached him at the Ministry the next day. Harry was all business, and gave him a surly look.

"Ron has my support, all the way. I agree with him, that you visit with Hermione much too often. It doesn't look good, and believe, I am doing you a favor. Hermione is too popular and tempting for any wizard to resist her. So it is better if you stop seeing her all together for our peace of mine. Sorry old man," He added sanctimoniously, "You know the saying, 'it is better to be safe than sorry.'"And he walked away, leaving Arthur in a state of shock.

Yup, those were his words. Arthur was so upset he had to go home, Molly wanted to hex the two fools until they hurt. He cried and was asking Molly if he had ever behaved like a leech around Hermione. "The foolish idiots," Molly told her family after giving Arthur a relaxing potion and sending him to sleep.

His siblings, also were against Ron, after all it had been seven months since the duo had forbidden Hermione to visit the Burrow alone, all because Charlie had said, "Wow, Hermione is one hot looking witch, if you all want one more Weasley in your group count me in," and George had seconded the motion.

And not to forget they left Hermione at home for Arthur and Molly's wedding anniversary, because too many single wizards would attend, and they were concerned they would be competition. What, or who was going to be next?

She left them within days of Molly's visit and the Weasley family helped her to move out. Then, they had a party at the Burrow to celebrate. Harry and Ron weren't invited, at the same party Ginny announced her engagement to Neville. Neville was no longer a pushover, and when he heard that Harry might be re-entering the marriage market, he proposed immediately.

After the fiasco, Hermione dated a hot South-American wizard. His name was Pablo del Toro, and was the first wizard to run away from her. His goodbye broke her heart, he called her from the airport claiming a pack of wolves tried to attack him after leaving her flat before dawn.

"Do you mean a pack of dogs? There are no wolves around here", Hermione had long suspected Del Toro, she was nearly sure that he smoked something other than cigarettes; she had caught an unusual whiff more than once. Besides, they had a passionate love affair and were talking about a more serious commitment, and she saw as a run away scheme

"No querida, I am quite sure. I don't want to leave you, mi amor. I tell you, one growled, "Stay away from the princess." I love you, creeme mi amor," his voice was shaky.

The actor, she thought, "It's fine with me, if you want to stick to such a silly story, adios amigo." And she let him go; besides he was not that great, a bit selfish overall. She dried a runway tear.

Little did she suspect that someone was starting to get rid of his competition, a clever wolf was using the pre-emptive strike tactic. He knew Muggle terminology; and he also watched the telly, once in a while. And our story begins.

Witches just want to have fun" - Happy Kittens is Born

George, Ron and Hermione were brain-storming about a 'how to get rich venture.' Hermione had inherited a little over one and one-half million sterling, a country estate, worth who knew how much, a fashionable London flat, and separate funds to maintain both the properties; and what she called 'a worthless blueblood title,' since she was never leaving the Wizarding world.

Her parents had stayed in Australia; and one fortuitous day, she received Muggle post. Surprise, a grandaunt had left all her fortune, titles, jewels, two dogs, a marmalade cat, ten horses, and two retired age, butler and cook, couples; it all went to her favourite niece's daughter. The reason it had all come to her was, ironically, blood prejudice; she had disliked Hermione's father, an untitled tooth puller, as she rudely had stated in her will; in her opinion, 'Hermione, my grandniece has enough 'good blood' to make up for the tooth-puller's tainted plebeian blood.'

Needless to say the event did not sit well with her parents, so she offered them the country estate, which they declined; they had enough on their own. However, when she offered them the London flat, that did it. Now they were back at England, trying to figure out where to set their surgery. "Honey, don't take it wrong, one day it will all be yours. We only needed a more central place to live, the place is big and you can live with us."

Whatever, now Hermione was looking for an angle in the business world, so she could accommodate her parents as well.

The Weasley brothers asked her with great curiosity, "Hermione, we had no idea you came from a rich family. If we might be forward, how did you get all that money?"

She tried to explain, granted that neither of the Weasley brothers understood one word about the blueblood business, and of how her mother's family came from a younger brother who had not inherited the title, and so on.

"It doesn't matter, it is legal money, and I didn't steal it." She smiled, 'I just want to invest my capital, and I love the way George's entrepreneur mind works."

And she turned towards Ron, "Ron, dear, you are the brawn, the strategist, and undoubtedly a hard worker. So how about we all get rich together?" She smiled and his felt a thug in his heart. No, he couldn't go there. Nobody would allow it.

Ron and Hermione no longer had a common love life. Whose fault was it? Of course, Ron and Harry had blown it, and he knew that.

"I have a great idea; Fred had already made at least fifty prototypes of charms and devices to play with your witch." George said enthusiastically, trying to push his idea.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and giggled; however, she was sharp, "True, I know that sex is growing industry. Besides, witches, the ones with a disposable income, live rather Victorian lives. I don't think witches' personal toys are really part of the mainstream, and there no access to the least risqué of sex toys." She answered, as she thought, _yes, the idea has its merits_.

"Do you have any of them floating around?" Hermione asked with great interest.

"Ah, no, we don't sell them, and I don't think they float." Answered Ron who still was not the sharpest of the three in the room, and some expressions just escaped him completely.

George and Hermione laughed, and Ron still looked totally lost.

"I do have one of each; keep in mind that they need to get a test run." George disclosed, lewdly raising his eyebrow, and they all laughed. Hermione tried to suppress any blushing; this was all business.

George brought a couple of boxes, and now it was the turn for Ron to blush. He averted his look from the witch. Hermione's mind started to work as fast as usual.

"Did you know Nigel Wespurt, he was a few classes behind ours," she said looking at Ron.

"Yes, he was a nice enough wizard, considering how his eyes strait all the time, in your direction, I mean." It was Ron's uptight response, followed by a suspicious look directed to Hermione.

However, he knew better, and the value of personal safety. Thus, it was critical, in order for them to work together, for him to stay away from statements that could be misconstrued as jealousy. However, it was true, Nigel looked at Hermione too much, and it was not jealousy; only a simple fact, he convinced himself.

Hermione had to bite her cheek to control her temper, would he ever change? Maybe, this was a bad idea, trying to work with Ron, and she remembered just a few months back, their break up was still a sore spot in her heart.

_Now they were friends. Both, Harry and Ron had finally understood that it was the end for them when they had come to talk and ask his mother and father to help them get back with Hermione. To their surprise there were party noises in the Burrow. They found them in a celebration of Hermione__'__s freedom and Ginny__'__s engagement. _

_Arthur and Molly were totally unsympathetic, even when they cried. Nobody felt sorry for them, because they only had to look at Hermione, and everyone agreed they didn__'__t deserve her. Oh, well, the sweet gits were her cross to bear, and she still loved them dearly, but she had purged them out her system._

"Hermione, hello, are you still with us." George was tapping her shoulder. He had given her time to cool off. He knew Ron and his jealousy, and of how angry it made her; the prat needed to learn his lesson. As Charlie had said, "Bro, if we had been given that chance you bet your sweet arse, we would be married by now, and had treated her like a princess. They had their chance, and not only they blew it, but they nearly killed her."

Indeed, at Ron's not so innocent Nigel remark, first Hermione and then George gave him a dirty look that, after a long and uncomfortable silence, prompted, "No, he was very nice, now I remember something about him…It was the one way he looked at her when the Professor err, forget it."

"You will never learn, will you?" Asked George, "And you better stop while you are ahead, you need to learn to keep your mouth shut."

Hermione shook her head in agreement and looked at the wizards while she updated them.

"He is a genius with electronics and computers, the internet, you name it. He just opened a small magic electronics shop. He sells that can work around magic. I think he would like to join forces with us; being that he has complained about Malfoys, nothing new. Malfoy Industries have tried to take over his small business."

She looked at Ron, who still looked put out, and wondered why she knew so much about Nigel.

"Anyway, I believe that he would be ideal for our purposes. We can make the toys combining the best of both words. You can have my money if we can convince him. I have some other possible wizards and witches, but let's see how this goes."

Days after, they met with Nigel, and agreed to a one-year salary, and then some kind of partnership to be determined.

That was the beginning of their partnership; the idea took root with capital and brains to make it happen. All left was to decide the name of their new company, a deliberation that took but a minute, since Fred had already thought of a double entendre name; instead of the p-word, that Hermione totally despised, they changed to kittens, after all, the marauder generation called witches, kittens. So it was how the "Happy Kittens" was born, owned by George, Ron, and Hermione, and two silent partners, i.e. Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom.

**George and Ron Weasley, Entrepreneurs, Rich, and Single, rated in the Top 10 British single Wizards**

The two single Wizards', George and Ron, photographs were at the cover of the "**Witches** -just want to have-**Fun**" popular magazine. It was the brainchild of Lavender Finnegan, née Brown, and Minnie Cherry-Pop, the wild 'wizard-eater' ex-model, and yank-expatriate.

The risqué publication was a manual full of tips of how-to … (mostly how to enjoy a hedonistic life 24-7, if that was your inclination). Each page was devoted to educate witches (regardless of their age, they had sections for the mature witch that wants to join the fun); for those hoping to become an expert on a step by step: how-to have pleasure with whomever, using whatever, and whenever, along with illustrated manuals and tips. If you had a wish, this was your source.

However, if you were just curious, or wanted a few tips, or to live vicariously through your imagination, this was also for you. It was akin to Wizard magazines that men hid inside their serious reading, just for the articles, yeah sure. Each page was devoted to a much neglected area of witches' education. Purebloods still were raised with a Victorian attitude, and the S(ex) word was just not talked about at all; they just did it behind closed doors.

Extract from the interview in "**Witches -** just want to have- **Fun**, spring edition-"-

_"Yes, Fred and I, we were two sensitive wizards, who realized early on, how many lovely witches are out there. Not only that, we were also aware of the scarcity Wizards to provide loving to all of them. My brother Ron, and our resident genius Hermione Granger, offered new ideas. Having two out three of the Golden trio, also working on developing our bright ideas for all our lovely witches, -"_

Answered George, and ended it by flashing his best smile to the half-dressed dark beauty interviewing him for the by-monthly magazine.

Minnie Cherry-Pop wore a cream coloured, thin jersey top, leaving little to the imagination. The logo displayed pouty lips, a tongue, licking a red lollypop (animated of course). "You don't say George; by the way, I have nothing to do this afternoon, do you? Blah, blah-"and the rest is history.

The article gave way for their dream to come true. Happy Kittens- Inc., a subsidiary of WWW was born, launched, and in just 18 months, the sales sky had rocketed.

The interview set up by Hermione Granger, aided by studies in marketing, and three other Muggle and wizarding professions, used the power of the press to make their product known far and wide. Thus Happy Kittens had become the number one worldwide supplier of specialized witches' personal toys.

The name was Hermione's brain child after Del Toro, her Latin lover. It was named 'Amigos' which means 'friends' (as per her press release). She thought Amigos instead of Friends would be so clever; yeah, it sort of was, maybe.

And the financial empire was born. The first real family of products was the 'Amigos' family, and their first line was "Your Kitty's Best Friend."

Soon George and Ron were fighting the witches, but Hermione's short success in the dating world seemed to be doomed to failure, she was under a curse, all her lovers, hit and run, just as Del Toro. The word was out, "Dating Granger was true danger."

**Happy Kittens**

**Success**

Each of the soft lined pouches discreetly hid one of the Happy Kittens' best friends; one of the products, from the first line of personal toys, for the modern witch in touch with her: Personal Needs; _let it be your best friend, take it wherever you go. Let your 'friend' satisfy all your most intimate needs_- as written on a nicely folded scroll, and in public advertisment. Not everyone one understood the meaning of the writing in the scroll meant, and many Wizarding world members still wondered what kind of friend that was.

At dinner time, Augusta Longbottom asked Neville. " Darling, do you think I need a Happy Kitten?" not knowing what it was. Ginny Longbottom had to leave the room before she would wet her pants from laughing so hard. Neville had turned bright red, "Err, Grandmother, I don't think you should get one."

"But Neville, darling, you invested our Galleons, and according to the Prophet, single witches and widows, all should have one, to make them happy. And only the Creator knows how much I could use a little happines- until there are little ones ..." Neville ran from the room, as fast as he could, pretending sickness.

Teddy Lupin kept pestering his parents, "I want a kitten. Kittens are happy and good friends." And a little more forceful, "and give me one, I WANT ONE OF MY OWN, A BIG KITTEN." And he crossed his arms pouting, "Mommy tolds Auntie Hermi, that Aunt Gini has two biggies, and she will not share; and that mommy had to go and buy her own, but I cannot find the kitty." And he pitched a major fit.

Remus was furious with Dora and Hermione, and confronted them after Teddy's last blowout.

"Why do you talk such rubbish around Teddy? If he keeps asking, you will explain it to him. Not I, the two of you will, and Dora why do you need one?" He asked in indignation, and blushed at his wife's raised eyebrows; Tonks not able to keep a straight face broke into a guffaw; and Dora and Hermione laughed for a while, while Remus covered his head with a pillow.

**Fred's Homage**

Each line in the market, after tested and proven safe… _The Amigos line has been introduced by the remaining half of the WWW founders, George Weasley, born out his love for all witches, and in memory of his best-half, Fred Weasley, who borne each of the inventions_, read the advertisement.

And yes, the original ideas were Fred's, as his statue and a plaque at the entrance, of the new several stories high building at the entrance of Knockturn Alley, attested:

**_'Fred Weasley_****_'_****_s great mind, _**

**_And his love for witches made it all possible._**

**_A world full of happy and satisfied witches and their 'kittens,' _****_wish that you were still here with us.'_**

**_We love you, George, Ron and Hermione_**

**Molly**

The international overnight success of the local grassroots industry that produced the magical enhanced sex toys for witches, had spilled over the entire Weasley family, and the community itself.

The "Weasleys Wizards Wheezes" WWW's magic shop had expanded, and the main manufacturing of products and potions were now made at a newly renovated, reclaimed portion of Knockturn Alley. The Potion's Master was the bat, who reigned in the newly renovated cellar. Their PM was the one and only, Severus Snape.

All Weasleys were enjoying the rewards of the new prosperity, and the chances of personal growth and employment, all except Molly. "The way you are all making galleons is so indecent. I don't even want to be seen by anyone when I go to Diagon Alley. You trade on the Devil's products; no wonder the new offices are located at Knocturn Alley where they belong. Pure filth and rubbish is what they are." She ranted and raved to the family, daily.

Well, that was until four months before. Arthur went home for lunch on the spur of the moment. When he arrived at the Burrows, he caught her leaning in the kitchen board with a small pouch laid on top half opened and she carefully touching it, with two fingers. She was obviously trying to get the courage to do something with it, uncharacteristically giggling, and a finger patting her lips.

Arthur's interest was piqued when he recognized the packaging of one of the Amigos, "Molly-woobles, what do you have in your hand, and what on earth are you doing. … Oh, I see. May I help?" He was quick witted, after all.

Nobody was appraised as to Molly's actual findings during that lunch hour. One could only judge by one relaxed, smiling Arthur, who said, "Sons, your Mom has accepted the job to manage the company's child care, restaurant, and other social support operations. She will start right upon our return. We are taking a four week holiday at the south of France." He told his surprised family during the afternoon's board meeting.

"And how did you manage for her to come around? Did you perchance used on her, hmm, the Weasley wizards' hidden charm?" Grinned George, lewdly raising his eyebrows, as his brethren and kin guffawed. "Oh, that is so gross, I need to wash my ears," said Charlie.

"Yes father, do tell us all how she changed her mind since this morning. Just in a few hours she has accepted to work here; in the Devil's manufacturing of dark evil gadgets, quote of her own words, "Your Amigos will corrupt every good witch in the world. I will never, ever, go to into that cesspool you call work," taunted Ron.

Arthur looked at his nails and smiled mysteriously. What he knew, he wasn't telling. It was between Molly, him and their amigo.

* * *

Next time.

**The old Guard, or Recycling, and one crafty wolf**

If you cannot beat them, give them a job, or The Beauty and the Wolf. Please, if you like it please review. Next time Fenrir comes. This story is around 12,000 words, around 3 to 4 chapters.


	2. The Beauty and the Wolf

Thanks to everyone for the reviews. They make me want to write more. After this chapter there are two more. When I finish some of the other fictions I will publish a dramatic one of Fenrir and Hermione. I must confess that I had a lot of fun writting thisk

xox

**The old Guard, or Recycling, **or the** Beauty and the Wolf**

The new company not only brought wealth to the London Wizarding community, but it also had triggered a city renewal which had reclaimed and cleaned up a part of the disreputable Knockturn-Alley.

Once the renewal started, more and more of the Alley was recovered, and made into a fashionable area. A few darker shops remained, cleverly disguised as respectable business, which attracted a hip young clientele, into the dangerous dark shops. The gain in real property prices made respectable citizens of unsavory characters; yes, the change created a win-win situation, for most.

Because of the inventory stored, and the articles produced in the new company, security risks were high. The fact that just one house down the tenants were not the best kind, made protecting their property a real challenge

The reformed death eaters released, out in an early parole sanctioned by the Ministry, as part of a new program. They were recommended as candidates to the program by Percy Weasley the Early Release Program head. Percy was also employed as a consultant at WWW, and paid exorbitant fees. And fully supported by the Aurors, by Harry, who also drew a fee for attending the meetings; there were those who suspected pay-offs, but it wasn't the case, or was it?

Ask Harry whose comments during one of the meeting made everyone wonder, "Wait there George, I am looking at the financial report, "and he pointed at a line item, "Is this a conflict of interest, paying him a 2,500 Galleons per month consulting fee?" asked the concerned Auror, Harry Potter, who sat as member of the board. After all he was not drawing any fees, strictly returns on his investments and fringe benefits, around 90,000 per year, hmm, what is wrong in this picture?

The heavily guarded factory it provided a buffer zone between the criminal element and Diagon-Alley. The need for security, and WWW being an Equal Opportunity Employer, had also given work to many vagrant and pesky, evil doers, not longer employed by Voldi. By doing so, former dangerous Death eaters were no longer living on the street; they were being paid to keep others away from the booming enterprise.

The end result was tangible, one death eater in through the WWW's gates, and one respectable citizen out. Eureka. And many of the former Death Eaters were quite handsome, not a bad trade. The new sense of accomplishment, and regular pay was working wonders.

In turn, with their new found wealth, the legal enforcers were making a life of their own. They wanted to live where they felt comfortable, and they were buying the closest property and renovating them into decent flats. Seamus Finnegan with an eye for opportunity, opened the first decent lunch bistro, right next door to the WWW Happy Kittens HQ. The continental bistro served cuppas and cappuccinos until 3:00 PM, and delivered magically cooked meals, after dark to the now more affluent residents of the Knocturn-Alley.

The scary group, a subject of many young witches' dreams, had a suitable leader. He was no other than, a notoriously vicious, rakish, well built, ultra attractive, sexy, the one and only Alpha-Werewolf- Fenrir Greyback. (Those were the exact words of Hermione to a friend in the USA).

He only worked in the day shift for obvious reasons, "I love the moon would miss it, if I was working." He told his employers. Part of his payment was delivered to a shed at the back of the building, right next to the industrial size waste bins. Later, it became part of his benefits package to include other 'products.'

The weekly deliveries came from an expensive butchery outside of London dealing only with organically fed beef, and the very large bundles wrapped in paper resembled carcasses, and the dark stains we can only guess. The contents were best left unknown. He was good at hiding his wolf's needs.

The Head of the Internal Security, to include physical security was Gregory Hoyle, who was on probation, and had an incredible knack at: finding holes in the wards, catching employees either skimming or taking home the company's property. He loved dispensing swift discipline, and found the job rather suited to his bullying personality.

The new sense of being in control, and legal use of their brawn, empowered the nasty bunch. They all looked great in their dark robes and garbs, displaying the less serious WWW logo. Greg wore his dark, foreboding robes, with hessian boots, giving him the appearance of a military thug, which his wife loved. Millicent would often tell Pansy, "I love Greg in a uniform, he looks dark and dangerous," duh.

Fenrir, usually wore his dark robes without anything under, the wolf was too warm under the dark robes. And he was grateful how the dark colour hid the occasional blood drips the alpha werewolf was famous for. When someone, stupid enough would point them out, "Just a few drips from my lunch," he would sternly answer. Get real, who would question Fenrir?

In the words of Scabior, a former snatcher, dressed in a flashy HP-WWW guard's uniform, and displaying a healthy smile, during an international's telly interview: "I'ctually got me a fat weekly purse, and also got me a Gringott 's vault. I got me paid noth'ng under _you know_ _who. And best, I don't got to be in the run_."

He told the reporter, cockily pointing his finger to his embroidered name, and to the red and gold emblem. "I'm a proud guard at WWW, the maker of your best "Amigo."" And he winked to all his admirers out there.

True, all true, and besides that, they had a nice health and dental benefits, retirement, and a disability package. Their package, designed by Hermione, included: premium pays nights and bank holidays, sensitivity training, discounted cafeteria food, office parties, outings, and even paid vacations. The remedial learning classes, taught by volunteers, were an added gift to the young men who had grown in dismal homes.

Hermione's classes were very popular with the lot. Of course they were monitored by the friendly Chief of the Guard, who sat in the back and made sure all the students did not make any unrequested approaches. They were taught basic social skills such as how to manage your budget, magic cooking, laundering, the merits of personal hygiene, basic table and overall manners, and so on.

One resourceful old widow came and taught them ballroom dancing, and the old art of courting. After the war, the Dark Eater widow had been left rather poor, and once again, she could afford a house-elf, and was able to feed the wild creatures who came to her stead.

An old clothier down on his luck came and taught the young thugs the art of fine dressing. Soon thereafter, his old, forgotten store, located at the less affluent section of Diagon Alley, was now the new affluent guards' store of choice, to buy fine waist-coats, shirts and trousers. He even allowed for horrible colour and pattern combinations to keep them happy. The Knockturn Alley renaissance was spilling into Diagon Alley, and an old Tailor's shop soon regained its old luster; and he was one of many.

Nothing is perfect; thus, the old adage of, 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions,' should have stayed in the front of all the managerial decisions. It was but a week, before common sense had to intervene.

The 'Weezie Guard,' as nicknamed by the press, was basically given the right to legally bully, those whom they might deemed as 'suspicious, armed, and dangerous.' Courtesy of the special permission issued by the Auror Division of the MoM, after all, it pays to have collaborators in high places, i.e. Harry Potter. The right was promptly abused, and corrective actions were resisted by their Chief.

"Lord Greyback," he insisted on his title, "attacking a half-blind 124 old wizard, carrying baguettes inside clear plastic, because he was assessed as 'potentially dangerous," would be deemed as absurd by anyone in their right mind. I would say they wanted to be bullies," Hermione argued with Fenrir.

"My dear Miss Granger some of the boys are hot blooded, poor misguided souls, they had never seen loafs of French bread, and they thought they were some kind of muggle weapon," he smiled one of his scary wolfie grins, thinking he had been, ever so sly.

Hermione knew better, they were THUGS. Fenrir's reasons, for only allowing Hermione to talk to him were of a delicate nature, ehem.

True that he was a teensy bit reformed, and this was the reason for his early release. He was part of a pilot program to reform the worst of the worst. However, the honest truth was that he had taken the job needing Galleons to rebuild his pack whilst his vaults were frozen.

However, the most important reason was the fact that he needed to be around the exquisite fragrance of one Hermione witch. He wished for her to see how he had changed, and how worthy he was of her attention.

He had never taken the Dark Mark, and besides most of the things said about him were pure rubbish. He would often let his inner wolf conduct as self-dialogue referring to Fenrir in third person. It came from his time in Oxford, his wolf was a thinker and loved to analyze Fenrir, his name was Plato.

_He loved projecting the dark persona; but the killer he was made out to be, it just wasn't true. While he might have bitten a few, this was to be expected, new young bloods were always needed. He easily reasoned that it was to be expected if you are a werewolf; he needed to bite a few, and in the process he might have killed a couple, well, it wasn't a perfect science and accidents were bound to happen. Fenrir_ shrugged his shoulders thinking about it.

_And, perhaps, maybe, it was possible that he might have killed some in self defense, although he was not a complete beast, eating children, raping, bah—who in their right mind would want an unwilling bitch, not him. Why do that when there are so many willing to be mounted? "Not mounted, to have sex,"_ Fenrir corrected his wolf. _Yes, Fenrir __was not a beast, no on your life time._

Sure, let's allow Fenrir- wolf to live a life of self-denial.

Lastly, he had a real secret reason, it gave him an edge, he had access to knowledge_, and knowledge is power._

Indeed,Fenrir, on his new job, had access the information needed, and it came from the source, practically. He was able to know and to learn first hand, the identities of the petite little witch's new love interests.

The knowledge gave him a winning edge to "remove" any competition before the affair gathered momentum. _Kill the problem before it grows, right at the root. It is sort of, hmm, like, like, yes, like gardening. I am just a gardener who swiftly deals with problems_, he concluded.

He had fallen for her since the moment he had caught her as a snatcher. Her sweet scent, smarts, magic, and her beauty had stuck to him, and had never left since that same day.

That same day, he knew that he had found the dreaded: M-A-T-E. The one he had avoided all his life like the wolf's plague. Lord Greyback's days as a ladies' man, as the lone wolf, as the sex-machine, were forever gone; alas, to his profound regret, he had not shagged since that day several years ago.

It was one of the downsides of being a wolf, or better said, a Greyback, it was a curse, once you found your mate; the only one who would elicit sexual urges was your mate, unless that she died, and they you were forever sad. _It absolutely sucked,_ excuse him, _stunk_.

During the last battle, at DH, he nearly got killed for watching her back, and the biggest reason for his short stint at Azkaban. He had, single handed, saved all her friends from certain death. Even her damn professors, because he had made it a point to find out all those important to her, and he made sure not even one of her Dumbledore's Army group had died, not one of her personal friends.

Except the Weasley boy, Fenrir had not seen the explosion coming. As for Severus, that was one great deed, and everyone benefited from his genius these days, even a certain blond witch.

His deeds were so extraordinary, that even the rescued ones had problems to believe it.

Tonks was horrified at Teddy's new hero, "Mommy I am going to be just like uncle Fenny when I am a big wizard." Yes, Teddy had other heroes besides Harry Potter, Auntie Hermi, and Weezie (Fenrir's name for Ron). All true, but nobody came close to Uncle Fenny, he knew he was a wolf and loved him.

Uncle Fenny had saved his mommy and daddy, so what was not to love. He would beg to be taken by Fenrir's job and would bring him biscuits. Teddy was a well adjusted young wizard; and he already had a role model much to Dora's growing horror.

He drew love pictures of his hero and himself in lupine form, and Tonks would cry looking at them. "Mommy, I am going to be a wolfie just like him." And would smooch and worse still, lick his picture...poor Dora Tonks, she was raising the future right hand of Fenrir Greyback.

Remus, gratefully owed two life debts to his previously hated maker, and as result he had turned into the graceful host for the re-engineered Fenrir. Who always came dressed in his fancy threads, with flowers, jewels, silks, and perfumes for Tonks, wine and books for Remus, and toys and sweets for the little one.

The wolf loved the delicious smell of a young wolf pup; a young wolf not yet perceived by his parents. He knew that Remus would be upset, but he should not, Teddy was a true shifter like him. It made the bad wolf dream of his future pups, little babes with curly hair. And, hopefully, he would sire one tiny bitchy for his favorite pup, Teddy Lupin. Ah, to have little ones, Remus was one lucky wolf.

His feelings for the little bitch, his bitch, as in a female wolf, his future mate, were making him soft. At least that was his idea of the wolf he had become. She knew and had given him a small hug and an air kiss in both cheeks after the battle; and it had made it all worth.

He would close his eyes and imagined she had been just a little shy, she was so sweet. It had never crossed his mind, that she might be just a tad afraid, never.

Life was good for Fenrir, especially now that the word was out: '_Those who had dared to court Hermione always encountered some sort of nasty accident, or would have horrifying eerie encounters…better safe than sorry, stay away unless you have a death-wish.'_

Some said, 'Poor Hermione even after the years, the Dark Lord is affecting her life, this must be the leftover of a Voldemort's curse." It really, really was, if they only knew. The curse's name was Fenrir Greyback, and it had happened under Voldemort's rule, therefore, magazines were onto the crux of the matter. The curse made front page of every gossip magazine, covering some of the most important affected suitors.

(_Extract from a gossip column) _

_Is the new Magical industry's tycoon, the brains of the Golden Trio, Lady Hermione Granger, the No 1, European Single Witch, a victim from a leftover 'You know who's' curse? That is a question of the moment and one without an apparent answer. Ah, to be so rich, beautiful, and so utterly doomed; poor dear witch whose only hope is that a knight can rescue her from her lonely fate._

_Dear readers, I can safely ascertain that it will neither be Lord Potter No. 1 Single, nor the No. 3 Single Wizard, Mr. R. Weasley, because the two uber-sexy wizards whose rumored doomed triad, was also cursed. We don't know what happened, but that their great love suddenly saw its end. Yes, it is true, hidden Dark forces will not let go of this tragic beauty..._

_—To date, some of the most important affected suitors:_

_- **Lord Justin Flinch-Fletcher: **On a clear fall day, he was found tied with heavy ropes, inside of the rubbish bin at the back of a very nice restaurant, the Flying Chef, . _

_A the last five prior consecutive daysHe had eaten at that very restaurant, , with one certain curly hair witch._

_During those luncheons, he had been observed snogging her more than once -see the three top photos to the left.- When found, his mouth was heavily taped with duct tape in the shape of an X, and a note attached, "Dumped in the rubbish bin where he belongs. He should count his blessings and a curly haired angel. He is lucky to be alive. Furthermore, he must keep his lips away from Miss Granger, or his life is in mortal danger."_

_Who could the thugs be?_

_- **Sir Cormac McLaggen: **He was attacked by unknown assailant(s). It was dark, and he had just Apparated in front the flat of the witch. They were going to a Club recently opened in the Alley; it was their third date in two weeks. He later told this reporter, he had wanted to marry her, but that would be signing his death warrant._

_He was found chained to the door of the club. Hermione was heard saying just a few days before, "He is the true dirty-dancer; he is one hot, Mr. Golden Shoes. Yes, he is right, we are rather serious."_

_His shoes were no were to be found, his feet were encased in gold paste, and his expensive robes covered with dirt. No note was found._

_- **George Weasley**: After an all 'night-er', was chased by a pack of wild dogs after dropping Hermione at her flat (see photo in the top right). His clothes were torn after running a mile; he was so afraid that he forgot about his wand. Months after the incident, and he is still afraid of even small canines. _

_"I wanted it to be something. After my brother broke up with her, I wanted to have a chance, but I heard the dogs talking, "If you see her again, you are dog-chow." My choices are clear." Mr. Weasley, No. 4 Single, told us with eyes full of sadness and regret. _

**_Socialite, Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy_**_: He was kidnapped, and held captive in a cold cave. Five days passed before he was found, almost frozen. He had gone in a ten-day pre-engagement cruise to the North Pole, with, yes, you all have guessed, Lady Hermione. His family had already made an announcement of the coming engagement party._

_Upon their return, he dropped her at her flat, and after spending the day inside, observers affirmed, he kissed her passionately at the door (see photo at left). He was taken away by unknown assailants before he reached his Ferrari. Nobody, including him, saw his assailants since he was knocked out cold with a spell._

_The street lights went out for a few minutes. No ransom note was ever sent, but an anonymous owl had been received at the Ministry. "The punishment fits the crime. He dared to take her in a cold ride. Come and find one frozen penguin at -"The exclusive green and silver car was ruined; someone had scratched the Slytherin green Ferrari with five deep grooves, what vandals!_

_Will the tragic heroine, with the sad doe eyes, ever find happiness; can a curse breaker release her from eternal loneliness; lets … Blah, blah, blah_.

End of gossip column

Fenrir bought several copies, proud of his handy work, and pasted them in his private break room. "Just for information," he told others.

**Fenrir**

The most significant change about Fenrir was the fact he no longer sported the werewolf look. He did not like that persona for his current job. He kept his human appearance, and he was one handsome wizard.

His was a very masculine beauty; the nose had been broken in pack brawls, and not always well repaired, and his eyes were the colour of steel, sometimes with blue highlights.

He had a uniquely striped hair, silver, black and platinum, and a couple of white blond patches. His chest was wide and powerful, a narrow waist and tight bum; and the solid lean built of predator, with long, strong limbs, and very large hands and feet.

Many Hogwarts students, of all sexes, would come around to look at him and the rough guards. Occasionally they would ask the wolf for a picture, and he would growl menacing. Reform only went so far.

"Poor wolfie," in the words of Teddy Lupin, when he would detect sadness in Fenrir after looking at aunt Hermi's pictures, and would sit by his side scratching him behind his ears, to his delight, and he would gift Teddy with his happy growl, which would make Tonks' whimper in horror.

Yes, Fenrir had noticed Dora's fear and it had him baffled, but not as much as the anxiety that he sensed from his petite witch, why should she be distressed around him?

He felt that Hermione was afraid for her safety, and he couldn't figure out why. She needed not to be afraid with him around her, she was so precious, he thought. Never, not once, it crossed his mind that she was terrified just sitting by his side. Yes, and it made him sad, little Teddy was a sensitive cub, and he knew exactly when Uncle Fenny was not feeling well.

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**Next time,** why is Hermione afraid of Fenrir, that is, besides of his large fangs, and his blood stained robe. Hmm. Thanks again for all the reviews. There are two or maybe three chapters after this.


	3. Fenrir courts Hermione

Thanks to everyone for the reviews. They make me happy, and make me write more. After this chapter there are two more. When I finish some of the other fictions I will publish a dramatic one of Fenrir and Hermione. I must confess that I had a lot of fun writting this. I am busy all week moving to a new computer.

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xox

**Fenrir's Courts Delicious Hermione**

The poor cub, she should not be afraid of him. Ok, maybe, she should, at least for the first fifty or so times, when they initially mated. Yes, she should fear him, not the man, he was a gentleman, or so; he thought. Whereas, he wasn't the problem, he was certain that his wolf would go crazy with lust. Fenrir already knew that during mating the wolf would be mostly in control, and Plato was going to hurt her.

Plato was a beast, and he liked it rough. Plato wasn't a gentle lover and loved to bite, nip, and an occasional scratch. Besides, he was rather endowed, that was being modest; he knew she would be afraid, and it worried him. An occasional witch or two, bailed out when they had seen him naked. _He couldn't let her see him during the first few times; it was no trickery, simply insuring his future;_ Fenrir often ruminated.

_Oh well, he would just ask Snape for some good pain potions for his tiny mate_. Fenrir told Plato, in their inner dialogue. After all, the bat owed him that and more. _He had saved his sorry skinny arse, had he not? Now that he had the cushy job, nice robes, fancy car, and the big lab in the basement of the main building; he needed to pay. And if not, he would tell Lucius, where Narcissa liked to spend her evenings when she went out shopping. Shall we say at the penthouse of the new building, two streets over from the HK Headquarters, in the same building owned by Snape?_ Yes, Fenrir had one or two aces, up his sleeve.

Hermione might be the reason behind rebuilding the old wealthy manor; the Unplotted grandiose, Greyback Lair. His plan was simple, he hoped that stable employment would give him back control of the frozen family vaults. However, he was not telling the reason motivating him, not to anyone; but his father already knew.

If wizards like Malfoy, would know the truth, that Fenrir had pretended to be broke during the war years, in order to get freebies from Malfoy Manor for all his pack...he might be one dead wolf. Voldemort was a terrible employer, and the Alpha did not work for free. Not that he needed the freebies, it was a matter of principle, since he had vaults that would put Malfoy's to shame. His father was basically royalty, a direct descendant from the original ones that came through the portals.

"Fenrir, so why are you so keen in pretending to turn a new leaf? You can always come and work for me, if you need a job. But I am in the same shape that you are, we all are, our vaults are frozen." Malfoy asked him during a recent visit.

Lucius smelled a clean wolf; something was brewing right under his nose. And if there was something to be gained, it would be by him, not by the dog. The crafty beast had something under his paw, and Malfoy did not like it, not at all.

Lucius liked it even less whenever he watched Narcissa; she made a fool out of herself, every single time, whenever the Lord of the Beasts, sporting a very old ring, came by the Manor. Lucius preferred when he had looked like the wolf he was; not this new persona of royal bearing, expensive clothes, and whose mien clearly hid something from him.

He did not like competition, these were Malfoy's hunting grounds, and the blond was his, she was a Malfoy's witch. Little did he know that a bat was already sampling the Malfoy's witch; and that Cissa had more than once had propositioned Fenrir, and he had turned her down.

People did not know Fenrir; they judged him as an animal. People, included Lucius, and it was better that way, they had no idea that he was very intelligent, educated, and cunning. He held a doctor in philosophy from Oxford. Hence Plato's name, chosen by the wolf. So what did they know? He wanted to convert his petite witch, to share with her the gift of three to four times the life span, and all the added healing abilities; i.e. shifting at will, not to mention the powerfully dark magic that would come from mating him.

He only had given the shifter's gift to Remus, who had finally accepted him; and now, his human pup no longer had scars. Then there was the Weasley cub, who still hated him with a passion, and the Lavender bitch; in his defense she had one coming as well, he had bitten her because she was shagging the princess' beau, behind her back. Not that he liked competition, but nobody made his bitchy cry. At the end of the day, they were all strong cubs for his pack, once they accepted him.

He was now clean, thus, he never forgot to take showers, but preferred dips in a pond. His manor had one, and he made sure to keep stocked with tasty fish; nothing better than a dip, fresh caught fish, and a roll in the grass. The fish was fried by the cook, once in a while, unless he was too hungry, then, it was fish tartar.

He often wondered if his mate would swim with him. _Both naked and he would mount, err, make love to her. I can see it; my cock pounding inside of her wet, slick happy puss—kitten,_" ha, ha, ha, ha, a wet kitty and a cock, ha, ha," he laughed and talked aloud; after all, he loved his own humour. The laughter never lasted because, Plato, the narrator would take over.

_And that beautiful mane, made of beautiful curly tresses; he would wrap it around his hand, snd use it to drag her to him…And he would bury his nose in her pussy, err, kitten, for a pit stop...he would lick her entire curvy body, up and down, every nook and cranny... After the tasting fest, he would make one crucial stop, she would be so delicious, that when he finally had his tongue inside her nether lips, we would make love to her with his long tongue, until she screamed with pleasure begging for more. Her flavor invading his senses, oh.._.

_Stop it Fenrir, you are still at work, _he always had to admonish his own self_. Damn, I must have her soon, six years not shagging and just using my hand, is a tad long. And only Hermione can get me this randy_.

Even if he was 82 years, 6 years were not long, but he was in his prime. His father had been over 360 years old when he had sired him; he was another lone wolf. He had hated the bitch, Fenrir's mother, because his real mate had been killed at the guillotine in 1791. She had been a French royal, and they also killed his daughter and son while he had watched from afar. He had not converted her and always told Fenrir not to make that mistake.

The old codger, now all grey fur, told him whenever he saw him, "Cub, you need to jump your lady, and the same day bite her and grant her the gift; if I had, Marie Louise would still be here with me. I wanted to respect her being a human witch, what an idiot I was. She will get over her anger. When are you going to give me grand pups? I am over 450 years old and only have 200 or so years to live. Make this old wolf happy."

He needed to shag his mate and make her his; in any case before he lost control and jumped her. He had to visit his pup tonight and ask him for advice. However, he did not like his laughter as he related his wooing to him. Last time Remus had lost it, over the machete incident, which he thought particularly clever and suave.

Remus had cried actual tears in a fit of laughter, and every time he saw the machete, he couldn't stop. Fenrir just didn't get it, something was wrong with one of his favourite cubs.

Granted Remus had some clever ideas, he had advised him to return Draco before he froze, and had told him what to write in the Owl sent to his parents. Fenrir detected a little hatred on Remus, for the Malfoys. He personally liked them, but the witch was not for Lucius' boy. Even if the crafty blond insisted. "I hope Draco loses his fear and pursues Miss Granger again, don't you agree dear Fenrir?" No, he didn't agree.

He brushed his teeth, at least once a week, well daily since she had commented,  
"Wow, your teeth are so, so white, and what a minty fresh smelt." Whereby, he was baffled at her shaking, whenever she looked at his clean teeth.

The reason behind her tremors was simple, it was because the words, _the better to eat you with my dear, _that she could hear looking at those gleaming canines, shining at her, whenever he smiled. However, the minty comment was sincere; it was the first time that she was not overpowered by the sharp copper bloody scent, and the somehow rotten-meat stench.

He was smart and knew that she would never forgive his trespasses, but he liked keeping an eye on her and getting rid of his competition, and a good hunter and born alpha. You never knew if or when, an opportunity might arise, and he was a man, but first and foremost, he was a wolf, "Do not mistake who I am, unless that you have a death wish," he would tell his men daily, "just to keep them in line."

Later, he would report back to Greg, rather coyly. WWW did not want their employees being abused; Greg wanted to stay alive and would smile weakly; and Fenrir just wanted to remind everyone of his wolfish nature, which he deemed necessary in his leadership position, with his rag-tag security troops.

Most of the other guards, were young hoods, or misguided Dark followers such as Scabior, most dangerous and dreamy wizards. There were also a few notorious had-beens. Even old Mondongus came later to ask for employment. Arthur had a soft spot for the old crook, and he sent Hermione to talk to the Chief of Physical Security.

Everyone knew that she was the only one besides Greg that he would talk to. Arthur was a smart man, companionate but not a fool. Besides, he refused to talk to the monster, who now demanded to be addressed by his title, Lord Greyback.

The git was even wearing his family's ring, gold, with inlayed precious stones, a gargantuan display of wealth and bad taste, according to Arthur. "It only calls attention to his long nails, and the pieces of dried blood and meat under them," was Molly response to Arthur's scathing comment about the wolf's new airs and the family ring.

**Making a Date – Sort of**

When he met with Hermione, he never really heard one word she said and always nodded his head. His mind was gone; and all the blood would rush out of his brain down south, and even before he saw her, he could smell her. His eyes were glued on her face and her neck, his mouth was always fixed in a forced smile that scared her to death. His, now, brushed teeth that always gleamed, were a result part of the mandatory private health program. Which came out right out their earnings, and was offered at the new Muggle-magic dental surgery at the Diagon Alley, ran by, you guessed, Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

At the end he would concentrate, "ok, Mistress, I agree, always your servant, do you mind sending me a scroll of our conversation? It is so I will not forget to do things just like you want them," cunning eh?

Instead of looking anywhere sexy, the forced smile displayed his gigantic-wolfish-sharp teeth. Making him look like the wolf he was, ready and willing to attack her and then have a yummy snack. And that appraising lead her mind to unbidden conclusions; namely, as a customer at the butcher, his checking her out was exactly as one would appraise a juicy piece of steak; and that attitude was enough to give her nightmares.

His continuous leaning forward to loudly sniff her, his little growls and tiny whimpers, and the way he sometimes brought one of her loose curls to his nose, served as warning of his intensions, dinner and bed. That is what romantic Fenrir thought he was saying, was he spoke a wolf-language of love, "My love, let us have diner, and then I will ravish you."

To Fenrir's misfortune, what Hermione heard was, "Run for your life." The story of little red riding-hood often came up these days. In her interpretation, he was saying, "Hermione I will ravish you, and then, you will be my dinner." Something got lost in translation, maybe she was using a wolfish-google-translator.

Red Riding Hood had turned into Teddy's favorite story for the wrong reason. Last time he visited the Lupins, Teddy had shared his views. Fenrir was just leaving but stayed a little while longer.

"Auntie Hermi, poor wolfie," he gathered and puckered his lips in disagreement, "I wish he could eat her. What if little red hood was really alicious? Maybe he loves the little red hood, and she is very tasty. I might want to taste one, when I am big and a wolf." He stood on the couch and leaned unto her shoulder, "That is what Uncle Fenny says. He says witches are alicius, and the mostest is you, right Uncle Fenny?" He licked her cheek, "You don't taste like candy, yuck."

Remus and Fenrir let out a raucously loud guffaw; and both Aunt Hermi and Tonks were quite scared, one for her son, and the other for her own safety.

And there was the time; when Fenrir had pulled that machete, he kept just in case, in a leather sleeve tied to his belt. He swung the machete in a graceful, elegant, arch, and chopped a large chunk of her hair, "there was a dangerous spider climbing up," he shrugged his shoulders at his explanation, smirked, and turned up his hands.

Hermione though he was going to cut her up in pieces, she closed her eyes, and when only a piece of her hair was gone, she kept her mouth quiet.. She later wondered why he had wrapped it in a clean piece of linen. Had he cut the lock of her hair to take home with him? It had been as easy as if he was cutting a flower during a walk.

That morning, Hermione was holding one of her meetings with Fenrir. They liked to walk outside, in the small garden on back of the factory. It had been built less than a month ago. It had a few trees, and a magically long run. It also had some benches, where hey usually sat.

Hermione was not a dummy and starting putting pieces together. Often, there was the occasionally-visible-enormous bulge under his robes, No trousers today, he is going commando, oh how gross, Merlin help me. But her eyes kept going at the size of his thing, holly molly, look at that. I wonder if it is for me?

This type of incident did not help to control the flight and run instinct. She did not want to be eaten by the big, bad wolf, not in any way, "Run Hermione run." A tiny voice would squeal inside her brain; squealing and less audible as time went on. She did not want to be eaten by the big, bad wolf, not in any way. Besides his eyes would be half closed, he was in lust, the nose was even flaring, and he was just not paying attention.

"Miss Granger, if I may be so bold to suggest, ehem, with all the increased crime around those wizards that you seem to hold in your affection," throat cleared, sniff, moved closer, nose flared, sniff, moved even closer to her, and cleverly bent the head towards her, very slowly, maybe she would not notice, sniff, "it might be a good idea to present you with my personal body guard services. You would not even have to pay me. It would be an honour to assist you in any form."

Fenrir, behaving very professionally and concerned, proposed his idea while looking at her; he stared at her with a rather appraising eye, licked his lips at least twice, and moved just a little closer to the small witch, just to breathe her delicious fragrance.

He wondered, for the third time, if she was noticing all his sniffing. Her aroma was so heady, that he wanted to mark her right there; and he was so randy that, soon, he would not be able to walk.

Without effort, he could imagine, _bending her over, removing her clothes with his mind's powerful magic, kissing her bum, and with one swift stroke, home sweet home. His hips bucked forward with the thought. You have to control your urges, damn it, Fenrir_. With stealth, he managed to pull on her curls up to his nose without her realizing. She never did, since she would look away from him, always.

"You are such a dear," Hermione was finding more and more difficult to remain cold to the one very big bad wolf; he scared her silly, but there was a what? A weird feeling low in her stomach every time he came near. And her wet knickers and her hardened nipples, the hot flushes; and like today, she always had to press her thighs together._ Darn, I've no idea why this scary evil-wolf-wizard is eliciting these feelings from me. And the more I see him was the worse it gets. I want the unthinkable, and in a bad way. NOOOOOOO_. Her mind screamed horrified.

Moreover, had she known that her arousal was making the wolf wild, she would have been further mortified and truly afraid for her future; as it appeared now, it was furry and full of fangs.

Yup, if one was to judge by him, by the wolf. Whose trousers were so tight that he might burst out of them. His bitchy wanted him, and her aroused scent was making him crossed eye. All together the same, she did not like him, not yet. However, her yummy smell had him drooling, if he could get a little closer and press his thigh against hers, just a little body contact; he gritted his teeth not to groan. _If he could press his cock, just once, against her body, he would...no he wouldn't come, he would mark her right there. Stop Fenrir. Talk_. Fenrir stopped Plato, his inner narrator, and made an effort to listen.

"However, I must decline, you already work too hard. Lord Greyback, I just cannot find it in my heart to further abuse you. Think of your generous escorting during your free time; after all, you already do that twice a week when I teach." She would always find a smart answer, but meanwhile the suitors were more and more afraid to ask her out.

She moved a little farther away from him, and she hoped she would not offend him by doing so. She didn't want to anger him, thus, precipitating a Little Red Riding Hood's reenactment.

He was practically sitting on her lap, his thigh was millimeters away from her, and she could feel his intense heat. Her feverish mind started by spewing facts,_ Werewolves' body temperatures were nearly three degrees higher than a full human's...maybe quite useful during a long, cold winter night...Sigh, to lay ones cold feet against the powerful... Ugh, no, scratch that thought. But...maybe... A bed and Fenrir, oh yeah...his big wolf's hands all over her body, getting closer and closer to... no, no, and definitely not_.

Hermione did not like the way her mind turned every time she sat by Fenrir. She needed to put a stop to that line of thinking; it was getting worse and worse; what she needed was an outlet, for all the pent-up-sexual tension; but with whom? All her beaus were running away from her; and the amigos' were not helping, the damn wolf's memory intruded her fun, every single time. Gods, she needed help, and she needed it, fast.

"I hear you Miss Granger, but I have already made up my mind, I will be waiting by your car when you leave tonight, I am following you home, and I will stay outside until you go to sleep, this is the night when you stay-in to work in your garden." At seeing her face looking suspicious, as to why did he have so much information; as to the data that he had gathered on her, he had the answer.

Giving her one of the wolfish grins, the ones showing his murderous ivory weapons, that made her insides turn to ice. Yes, it was the sight of the little too sharp canines, gleaming under the sun light, "Mr. Goyle, has given me your entire schedule this week, yours and the two Mr. Weasleys. His goal is to ensure that you are safe and accounted for, at all the time. After all, you could become the target of all the crazies out there, all those still unreformed-awful-Death Eaters." There he had her. A date was on, and he had his plans.

Xox

Oh,oh, What plans does Fenrir and Plato, his inner wolf, have? Poor Hermione, her inner slag wants the big bad wolf, one more chapter and the Epilogue, then, down the road, a different Fenrir.

**Thanks and thanks again, and to you, my dearest Savva for your words of courage.**


	4. The Wolf's Date

Disclaimer: Yes, HP characters belong to JKR. The story line is mine.

I made the story one chapter longer, for those who had been asking for a little more. But this is it. I am still struggling with moving my gazillion windows programs into a Mac, what a challenge. I will be slow updating my fictions, and as much as I love this one, there is others that must be tend to. If you like the story do let me know.

By the way, the last chapter I edited in my ipad, and it had many typos after I cut and pasted, hopefully this one is better.

Warning: This chapter contains material that might only be suited for more mature readers. If sex scenes bother you, you will need to skip this chapter.

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**The Wolf **

Fenrir had followed Hermione to her fancy flat via Floo; indeed, he was as good as his word. Earlier, he had gone home to pick up a change of clothes, and a few items to entertain his lady, as he told his house-elf.

"Babies? Is you making babies with yous missis; maybe four or five pups, we needs them." Demanded, in no uncertain terms, his cantankerous, old house-elf.

"I'll try, I'll do my best." He promised the old elf.

"Son, would you be game for a night-run with the pack? Your half sister will be there." Fenrir's father asked when he was leaving.

"You invited my mother? This is a new one for you. I though you disliked Mother and her, ehem, partner." Fenrir's looked at his father carefully. He wasn't wild about her, neither about 'his little sister,' a bratty she-wolf, last he saw her, when was it, hmm, 15 years ago?

"No, only your sister, she is unhappy with their pack. I took the liberty to let her stay here." His father wouldn't look at him on the eye. His father had something up his sleeve, after all, the young she-wolf was not a Greyback, but he had no time for this; tonight, he would be that much closer to his goal.

"Not tonight, I am going to Miss Granger's home," and he told his father about his latest win.

"I will follow you and guard the house, you will need privacy." His father, the old Alpha ascertained, nobody disobeyed their Alpha, and he growled in frustration. It was their magic, albeit his father was his Alpha, he was the Alpha of the pack; there were old rules, that way your father always had an upper hand, disgusting.

"I am old enough, I don't need a chaperone." Fenrir told his father, and his father properly ignored him.

His father grumbled, "Six years waiting, I would say that you do." He had made his point, he was always right.

**At Hermione's**

Hermione was feeling at odds with herself, and she didn't like it one bit. She invited him inside the house; the reason was simple, she didn't want him with her outside, since he made her nervous. She would kick him out when she was done with gardening.

He picked an old book on _Philosophy of the Alchemist's Geist. _She raised her eyebrow; surely, he wouldn't be able to read a word. She smiled to herself, he was being pretentious, and he noticed her look, "I read this during in my first year in Oxford; it is good, light reading." He really meant it, but she didn't believe a word he said.

As soon as she stepped out, he changed his clothes, and set out the contents of the picnic basket that he had brought along. However, her scent, all over the house, was wreaking havoc in his tormented mind.

Hermione was tired since gardening was a hard job. Later tonight, Harry was coming over with Pansy. Hermione could not get over that Pansy liked Harry. War had not been kind to her family, and the two of them made a handsome couple.

She didn't miss the days with her two wizard friends; just the memories of their possessiveness was enough to cool her heels, whenever he caught herself admiring one of them; besides, at present she was conflicted with her desire for the wolf. What she didn't know is that Harry liked Pansy, but not loved her, because Harry was still lukewarm about Hermione; yes, he wasn't a good loser.

Fenrir had changed into Muggle jeans, a wide belt with a silver buckle, and a fitting white shirt, and loafers; all bought by his new professional shopper, Mrs. Longbottom. She had started her new consulting job for all the new businessmen around the area, and she was raking the dough.

While Hermione was working outside he fixed her a glass of the iced tea, that his house elf had prepared for today, he remembered the slice of lemon, and the mint leave. He prepared the tray he brought, from the Greyback treasure, silver with encrusted jewels intended as a house warming present, with a few other treats and the cheese puffs that the elf had also baked for her, and called her inside.

She was grateful to be invited to have a cold drink. She was hot and tired and glad to come in; and when she did, Fenrir dropped the glass from his hand.

Her sweaty jersey top was stuck to her, showing her breasts to perfection, the dip of her waist, and the short trousers fitted her bum rather well. Her face was dirty, and tendrils of curly hair escaped her, giving her a gamine look; to top it, her aroma was heady, ambrosia for the werewolf; the effect was ever so alluring and sexy, but it was her naked legs what undid him, he had never seen her legs, not like this.

Not that naked if technically speaking, she wore mid-thigh shorts, but enough for the desperate wolf; _those long white legs, the way to nirvana, so shapely, so damn delicious. _His frozen mind barely articulated.

He made excuses about the glass being too slippery, and knew that tonight was the night.

He could not longer wait. His inner wolf was egging him on, _Fenrir just grab her and kiss her; don't make any excuses, don't let her think. You forget all we have done for her; you painted her house while she went with Malfoy's boy in her sex escapade; you bring her flowers daily; you have given her half of the Greyback's jewels; hmm, granted she has given them back; in a swash buckling romantic impulse, you cut a lock of hair with a machete…_

About the machete, Remus had laughed so hard, that Fenrir had wanted to kill him. He did not think it was funny; he had done it so carefully that she might have not noticed. Not true, when Hermione had seen the machete lowering on her, she had screamed very loud, whatever, he shrugged.

"Just bring a good bottle of wine, perhaps some chocolates, whatever it. I saw you with ladies more than once, they all wanted seconds and thirds. Do it again." That was Remus advice.

And that was what he was doing right at that moment; if only, she had not been so, so, undressed, those legs asking to be licked.

His cock must have been straight up because it was hurting him. He walked towards her as in a daze, with a new glass of ice tea. She was transfixed on the spot seeing his definite arousal, his jeans appeared ready to burst; and, darn, he was large, very, very large. He was more wolfish at that point but not much. His clothes fitted nicely, and he really looked well.

Well, was not the right appellative; and instead, he looked magnificent, feral, and desirable; he was truly a beautiful man. With their eyes glued to each other, he came to her, and put the cool glass on her forehead, moving down to her breasts, and then in her face. With his own hand, he made her drink and he pulled a piece of ice to cool her face. He no longer was thinking, all he wanted was she and he was in conquest mode.

When the ice melted, his tongued licked the wet skin. He was not even aware of backing her into a wall, and that his large body was covering hers, and there was no space between them. He bent down, put the glass on the floor, and went down on his knees.

He wrapped one arm around here waist, put his face unto her torso, and he inhaled her scent. As he inhaled, his breath was heavy, and small moans and whimpers escaped his lips; it was not enough, and he rubbed his face on her belly, to have her natural scent over his skin. He was whining and keening louder, and she felt his erection low in her legs.

She was aware of needing to take a bath, but couldn't think.

The way she was feeling, was never felt before, besides being a shape shifter, or a werewolf, he was a powerful dark wizard; hence, the two magical cores were weaving threads around them preparing a cocoon for their first mating. She was more or less trapped.

He pulled apart from her just a smidgen, and with his mind and a short hand gesture, he wished her short trousers off. And at the sight of the witch in the small lacy knickers, his wolf howled.

This, however, didn't halt the action, because Hermione was no longer afraid, she was in the middle of a sort of mate enchantment. Thus, all she wanted was the man who had been pursuing her for over six years. She saw a wizard, and no longer saw him as a beast, not at that moment.

Fenrir the man still had a small hold in the situation, and wanted to be a gentleman and take her into a room, to lay her in a bed, but was afraid to break the spell.

He kissed the patch of bare skin between her very low knickers and the edge of her top; slowly, he raised her sweaty-shirt, and kissed and licked his way up, and when he approached her breasts, he raised his head to look at her. Her eyes were barely opened, her lips were not closed, and her breathing was hard; and he believed never have seen such a beautiful witch during his lifetime.

With a sharp nail, already out, he sliced her bra open, but she didn't even notice, her breasts spilled, and he whined.

He put his face to her breasts, and breathed in their scent. He was certain that no pair of breasts had ever looked this magnificent. He loved the light color of her nipples, and the freckles adorning them, she was perfect, even better than he had ever imagined.

His tongued licked her breast in sweepings motions while his cock throbbed, he couldn't wait.

But he had been raised a gentleman, and albeit most his family had been killed; he had been taught by the survivors of the great massacre. From his actual family only his father and him had survived.

He was a gentleman that much was true, and as one, he had waited for her all those years, but now the waiting was done, and the time for action was here.

He encircled her left breast, and sucked on it with care, her legs trembled, and her arousal dampened her pants, which made him harder, if that was altogether possible.

He couldn't help it, and he was humping her leg. _Oops_, Plato told him, _we hump legs, that is our way._

His hand, finally, went to his trousers to free his aroused penis, and once done, he sighed with relief.

He wanted to see her sex, touch and lick it, now.

He sat on his calves, his cock straight up, leaking and ready. He hoped she wouldn't look, because...yes, he knew that it would scare her.

She waxed her pubic hair, and he raised an eyebrow, no, he didn't like it. Modern or not, he had imagined licking the hair around her labia, and there was only a little, he would later correct that.

However, he could see the area much better, and wondered if maybe he was onto something. Maybe he liked the smooth skin. Not able to think more, he pressed the nether lips open, and saw the most beautiful sight of his entire life, he rubbed his nose on it, and he couldn't get enough of her scent, his tongue tasted, laved, and lapped, and the wolf was glad to find no other male scents mixed with hers.

Hermione was no longer able to think, she was a mass of raw nerves. The magic of their first mating was already upon them, binding them together, bonding their souls.

"Kiss me?" she asked in between shudders.

Fenrir stood up and put his hands under her bum and brought her up to him. She saw his eyes, were no longer grey and larger; their color was blue and amber specs, and they had an eerie glow. His face was longer and wider, not 100% human, the skin tone wasn't white, and not a human color; she would have to say white but with grey tones, nearly silver. Nevertheless, he was magnificent, and when he smiled, the smile revealed a full set of very sharp teeth, along with his fangs; but she wasn't afraid, they were part of him, and she loved them.

She brought her face up to him, and he said," My princess, my mate," For a moment she recoiled in fear, she thought she had heard the word M-A-T-E, but the mating's magic was working hard on her, and she breathed easier, a mate wasn't such a terrible word.

Harry arrived at that moment, and an old gentleman stopped him at the entrance. Pansy and Harry looked at each other; he looked sort of familiar.

He had a rather stuffy, educated accent, "Miss Hermione was called to work. She has asked to postpone the meeting tonight. I was invited here myself, and I was asked to wait and tell you. She hoped you wouldn't be inconvenienced. " His imposing manner left not room for a question.

He used an old charm to convince them to leave, and Harry and Pansy, only a little annoyed left. Lord Greyback turned invisible once again; after all, he was making sure that his idiotic son got his mate tonight, once and for all.

He had one mission in life, and it was to fulfill his strong desire for grandchildren. He wanted curly hair cubs around their lair, and that was all there was to it. It wasn't because he was old; and his son was wrong about being so old, he had pretended to age more than he really had; after all, it paid to be a cunning old wolf. Fenrir didn't know their aging stopped in their high thirties and by the time they died they would look maybe fifty. He smiled, back to supervising junior.

**Inside-**

Hermione had never been kissed like that before. Fenrir had lots of practice; he had sampled most of the witches around him. Choosing his half-wolf appearance had been for Voldemort's sake, because it scared those around him.

The problem was that Miss Granger was different, and he was not able to be suave around her. Remus had told him to quit being so wolfish, what did he mean?

Maybe, wolfish and with his next words, when he nearly lost her, at his inflamed sentiment, "You are so very delicious, my little Red-Riding-Hood," which were the first words out his mouth, and her muscles quit working, she felt faint.

Teddy had told him the story of the girl and the wolf, and she became his Red-Riding-Hood; so he tasted her, and totally ignorant of the possible damage of his words, he followed them with some more, "Your mouth taste of honey, and your other lips of happiness, of the finest female delicacies."

He freed one hand, retracted his claw, and his finger probed inside her channel, and a shudder overcame him. "Yes, please," Hermione heard her voice said, the _delicious_ word all forgotten.

"Princess, you're so tiny, gods, so warm, I must, and I cannot wait." He cried, already wanting to be inside her. He touched her clit, and she came, the clenching on his finger, made him yelp.

His kisses were intoxicating, gods he felt big, quite large. A bit of apprehension washed over her, this was Fenrir, what was she doing?

He stopped her brain with the movement of his caressing finger, giving her more, and with the sound of his urgent breathing. His whimpers no longer sounded creepy, and she recognized his desire, kindling hers.

"Hermione, I must have you, please, may I." He asked with his cock already placed at her entrance, between her nether lips; this was wrong, a bed, he wanted a bed.

She responded by laying her head on his shoulder and nipping his neck, her hand reached down and went around the head of his penis. "Not sure, you might hurt me," but as she was saying that, her body was trying to open for him.

Her hand was on his cock, not in his wildest dreams, yes, he had dreamed it, but not thought it possible. He cried as he pushed unto he hand.

"No more thinking," he heard his father, the damn wolf was out there, whispering but loud enough for him to hear, "Fenrir, you must take her, if she talks to her friends they will take her away, forever, I know this, take her now. Explain later, mark her, convert her, now. Do it son. Do it. They didn't believe me and they are coming back to take her away, forever." His father sounded anguished. He was, he remembered his own past follies.

Fenrir's cock found the warm entrance and not thinking, pushed in. Hermione whimpered in pain, he was big, very. She pulled back, trying to get away, "It hurts, stop, stop."

He couldn't have, even if he tried, because he was too far-gone.

"My mate, you only you. You are my only one, my love." He touched her forehead, and changed her brain paths with his strong shifter magic, the pain gave way to pleasure, in seconds, as he moved and touched her clit, kissed her mouth, her breasts.

"My mate, my mate," he thrust into her madly, each thrust brought him pleasure and more pleasure, the harder the better; he had known he couldn't be gentle, too long of a wait. He was biting her gently, love bites, so far. His body was enjoying this way too much; she was so tight, smell so good, gods. How could this be so damn good? He was hurting her, and he was afraid for her safety; he had no choice and he had to bite her, or he might even kill her. He infused more pleasure into her mind. He could hardly make decisions, gods, he loved his bitch; her moving around him, her face distorted with pleasure, he was in paradise.

"Change her, she is mine," Plato screamed in pleasure, the hot wetness pulsing around his penis, "yes, yes." Fenrir the man, answered in a loud voice.

Hermione was surprised at the feeling, first pain, and the magic of the mating permeated and numbed her senses, exchanging it with pure pleasure. She had never felt something like this, it was, she couldn't think.

Fenrir was shifter royalty, the last of his family and only a few left from the first ones. He was mostly a wolf, and also a human. And there was little that he couldn't control, however, the ingrained instinct to save his line was driving him, and his father was counting on it.

"Love, you are so warm, yes, like that," as her muscles contracted, he realized he was only partially in. "Love, hold on, I need more, open," he cried.

" Yes, " she held on to the wolf whose hair now seem as a wild mane, his ears had elongated some, not much, but enough to give him a more wolfish appearance. Yet he was unworldly beautiful, how could she have thought him otherwise?

"Hermione, I am going to come, real soon; and I need to ask you, say yes, do you want to be mine? Forever, be mine, I love you, I love you." He pleaded desperately.

The effort to talk hurt his throat, he was no longer completely human, but he needed her consent for what he would do next.

Outside his father was cussing; Maria Louise had not accepted his bite. His elders had told him: _When a wolf bites without consent, the love might not grow and she might never be able to shift, and would grow to resent him_. But, he later found it, that those were just legends, and nobody knew for sure.

Hermione's mind was too addled, the magic of the first mating was heavy upon her, "Yes, forever, I love being with you. Gods it feels so good, and I was so afraid of you, never afraid, never more." Yes, that was the sex talking. In reality, she had no idea of what she was committing to do.

A scream froze in her throat when Fenrir looked at her; and at the moment when she felt waves of pleasure, he opened his mouth very wide, and went for her throat—she screamed but nothing came out, he was going to kill her. She was such a sex slag, and was going to die, _here lays Red-Riding-Hood-Granger, like a dead duck. Died by the bite, a nice death, she found it 'coming,' because she was a slag_. Those were her grim thoughts.

His fangs closed, but not on her neck, not to break-off as she feared, but in the lower part of her neck, and she felt the fangs, but no pain, and instead, more pleasure.

She had died, and when death came, waves of pleasure bathed her soul, her entire being. Hermione thought_. I can hear and smell better; in death all is better. Oh well, my friends will find a chewed up bone, and some tuffs of my curly hair, what a shame. "Here lays the slag whose end came too soon; just because she loved being chewed up…For pleasure."_

Her body shook in an orgasmic wave, and her wolf cried his release, she opened one eye, she wasn't dead; and damn, he was gorgeous, another orgasm, she let it ride, holding to him and crying his name. "Fenrir, oh yes, you are good, yes."

And she fainted. An hour after, she woke up inside her tub, Fenrir had a kitchen apron tied around his neck, and his waist, and was smiling with fairly normal teeth...with fangs. He could be fully human, but he adored his hombre-malo look. In Spain long ago, a pretty female wolf- had once told him that his fangs gave him the hombre malo appearance, a bad man, precisely.

"The Bat gave me this potion to add to the bath, it should help you with the pain and maybe heal up some of the worse tearing. "He smiled shyly, "sorry, you are small and tiny, and I acted like, well, an animal," and he laughed as his own joke.

She joined him a little scared, more than scared, truly afraid of his familiarity. And that kitchen apron her American friend gave to his witch friends, with a large picture of a big broom, looked odd on the naked wolf.

What she didn't know his intent was to hide his, err, big broom. The effect was X-rated and silly, and made it all together bizarre.

Meanwhile, Harry had remembered, "That was Greyback or at least a relative. Pansy, did you know that at the Auror's office we have suspected of a werewolf being behind the misfortunes of Hermione's beaus; and did you know there were dog packs, in at least two cases?"

"Lucky her, Lord Greyback is sexy, who would have known that there was such a wizard behind the wolfish persona. I wouldn't mind one myself," was Pansy's response.

Harry was horrified at her answer, and before you would know, he had brought Bill and Ron with him. Remus also came along, suspecting that Fenrir had finally gotten lucky. In all honesty, if Fenrir would gift Tonks, he would be glad, fools, he thought. Being a shifter was a great thing, the best ever, if they only knew.

Meanwhile, Hermione was confused, and although, she wasn't sure what she was doing in her tub, it all was coming back to her. Especially now that Fenrir was on his knees with a washcloth washing her feet, and licking them at the same time, tasting them; _wait, did he tried to eat her? _Now he was at her leg, drying it with his tongue. She pushed her back against the tub, but there was no place to hide.

"Do you feel different," he asked apprehensively, avoiding eye contact at all costs, like the canine he was.

She blinked not sure of what he was asking. "I feel relaxed, that was, err, unexpected, but most satisfying. " And that was understatement of the year; his licks were waking her up, again.

He laughed, "I hope you are no scared of me. I know you might have been a bit frightened. I can be a real bad wolf," he smiled, his fangs gleaming as she recoiled, but a warm gush warmed her thighs. No, Hermione Granger, was truly in danger, _girl, you are nothing but a sex starved slag. Yes, sir, _she had not learned her lesson.

Her hips were rising, as the bad wolf's tongue got closer to her thigh apex, her head turned towards him, and her eyes made a quick detour on her shoulder, and—she screamed.

"Agh, what is that?" She asked, pointing with her finger. Of course, she could see it, and she could read as well; let us not forget that she knew the magic lore. Yes, she had a tattoo, a rune that read: _FG_, inside a wolf paw. "What is this, exactly?" She sounded quite peeved.

Fenrir looked up. How to explain, she was going to kill him... He looked up celling some more; he needed a lie, quick. She was upset. He needed assistance, where the hell was his wise father.

They heard a big commotion several people, someone was breaking into the house, into the WC.

Harry, Ron, Bill, giving Fenrir an evil eye, and behind Remus laughing very loud, looking at Fenrir naked, with the washcloth, and that apron.

Hermione looking at the tattoo, Remus could smell the she-wolf, and he quit laughing as he became aware of her evil glare going from Remus to Greyback. The two wolves had conspired against her; her beloved Remus had betrayed her.

"Oh, oh," Fenrir said, and taking a page of her book he bit his lip in a grimace.

"You monster, you fiend, what have you done? I am going to kill you." Harry was furious, same with Ron. Their eyes moving from the aproned, wash-cloth-servant wolf, appearing as a porno star in a weird fantasy flick, to Hermione, who appeared fully loved (they knew the look), and now had a giant tattoo, more like a cattle brand FB- inside a dog paw, correction a wolf paw.

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a/n I made the story one chapter longer. This should have been the last, and as it is, is quite long. Some of you, faithful reviewers wanted some more. Thanks for the reviews.


	5. Findings

Disclaimer: JKR owns HP

We are reaching the last curve, ready to end this story, just one more chapter after this one. It has gone as far as it should, but the Happy Kittens might come back in another occasion. Thanks to the reviewers, each comment is fertilizer for my imagination, really welcome. I have a short story around 5,000 words on the naughty wolves series, it is about Remus and Hermione, maybe will publish it next.

* * *

**Findings  
…...**

The boys had been talking about wooing her again, now that they were more mature. They were sure something bad had happened here. They both agreed that Hermione was looking way too alluring. They just could not help it, and could not keep their eyes away from her.

What happened next was way too strange. Both Remus and Bill fell down on their knees, and exposed their throats to Hermione, who started screaming when they called her, "Our Lady Greyback, your wishes are our commands." It was instinct and they couldn't help it. She was hysterical until Fenrir's sweet cooing calmed her down. Once she did, he stood in front of her.

Hermione realized what happened by Fenrir's look of guilt, covering her naked body with his. She could chose a different attitude and let him have a piece of her mind, but she was conflicted looking at his tight buns. _Hermione Granger, you are a slag, scream, kill him, do something, and quit staring at that yummy bod. _

"I am killing you," Harry directed his threat to Fenrir, "but I guess is too late, but maybe not."

"Let's go for it, she is ours." Ron egged him and surreptitiously both went for their wands.

Oh yes indeed, Ronald and Harry, who had their fair chance and blew it; and now dated Luna and Pansy, decided to act like idiots.

It was a good thing that Lord Greyback Sr. was behind them.

"Son put the wand down, or regrettably, I will have to kill you." He pointed the wand at Harry's neck. "She is no longer one of you. And if one must be truthful, neither of you are fit to lick her foot; you never were because she is one powerful female and the two of you, are puny youngsters. You need to leave and keep you mouths quiet."

The chilly menace wasn't lost in either of the younger wizards; whose mouths show their discontent, whose hair bristled in response.

Fenrir was looking at his father, who seemed to be ten years older than him. What had happened? Had his father deceived him for years, the deceitful old gizzard needed a talk.

The older wolf came by Hermione and sniffed the air. "Good job my son. You have done it Fenrir my lad; I guess waiting six years made you good and potent. I would say she is carrying at least two maybe three pups, new baby Greybacks, and I cannot wait." A wolfish grin lit up the handsome face, showing his long and sharp canines.

His dark steely eyes shone with great pride, and to Hermione's horror, the older Greyback stepped closer, bent, licked her head, and her muzzle, err, her face, and lastly, patted her belly with great reverence, letting a small "woof," of approval. Another scream threaten to leave the confines of her mouth.

She tried, until the words, "Two maybe three pups," kept resonating through her mind until the reality. And, with a remarkable lack of self-control, Hermione once again screamed for a good minute.

She thought the screams were justified; _I needed to scream; it is my right; face it, I am truly horrified. Gods, he is saying I am going to have pups, cubs, as if I were my father's dog. I a going to be a mother of a litter. Worse even, I am P-R-E-G, UGGGHHH. What have I done? _

None of the wizards ran to her, and Fenrir just shielded her body, avoiding eye contact at all costs. He valued his life, and sensed a very angry witch; no way he would face her. _When she settled down, he would hold her, sooth her, and give her one of the tiaras. He would call her my queen, maybe that would make her happy._ He thought.

Fenrir's father stood in front of Bill, " And Mr. Weasley, we still have an offer for you. I am nearly five hundred years, a good life it has been, so how about it. Our original pack was destroyed by Grindenwald, and we always look for those worthy, to join the real pack."

Bill shrugged his shoulders, not quite sure. Fleur wouldn't be happy, but looking at Remus without scars and not ruled by the full moon, he just didn't know; nevertheless the offer sounded more and more tempting. He knew that Remus had been offered land to build a home in the Greyback land; he needed to think.

Remus and Bill both noticed the looks passing between the "idiots". Aka Ron and harry, and they knew the boys wouldn't let it go. They need to talk and find a way to restrain them. They were ready to start a war, and Bill still remembered the fiasco when they had the triad.

Now, with Hermione's brains and her abilities the family and everyone prospered, and even now Hermione's ideas kept coming. Besides the Greyback pack was their ticket to a bright future.

They looked at each other once, and each grabbed one of the younger wizards and dragged them out the room.

Fenrir's father felt the tension mounting, and also decided it was time to skedaddle and let the young ones deal with their internal problems, his job was done; and he did not fancy angry bitches; few things scared him in this world, and one was an upset mate, it was better to stay as far away as possible. Besides, he needed to go and advise the pack and the house elves of the heirs on the way.

In his way out he clicked his heels. He was the happiest he had been since Fenrir had been born. The pups, little Greyback babes, thinking about them his heart expanded in joy, life couldn't be better. Now it was the time to drop the old wolf act so he could run, play, and hunt with the young ones, he felt like howling to the moon the entire night. It was getting dark, time to go and run with his people.

Fenrir hated the sound of the door closing; it meant that he was alone with his little mate. And when he turned to look at her, the first thing he saw were her nipples peeking out the water, and his cock made a full come back. Making the small apron obsolete and Hermione's eyes as big as the full moon.

"Why are you wearing my apron?" She thought she knew and was ready to bolt. She was guessing that size matter and remembered the old adage of better safe than sorry.

"I didn't want to get wet." He answered lamely, not too sincere, and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"Take it off, right now, but not here in front of me, and then get dressed because we must talk."

Fenrir looked like he had lost his most prized possession as he took off the too small article of clothing, and when Hermione saw what he aimed to conceal, a mischievous smile graced her lips. A little scary, wait a lot scary, no wonder he fed her pain potions. She was not sure why her inner vixen had made her smile. Hermione, the human witch was rather terrified.

"I knew this would happen, Plato it is your fault, you were very rough with her." He told his inner wolf, dissuading himself of any responsibility for his body parts or his actions.

"I need you to leave my home, "She told Fenrir while he fed her the minestrone soup that Berty his House-elf had prepared for her.

He fed her a spoonful after a piece of bread and a sip of lemonade, and then wiped her mouth daintily. He treated her lovingly and patiently and altogether ignoring her tirade.

"I won't let you come near me again, with that thing," he stuck the spoon on her mouth, and she closed her eyes in ecstasy at the bite full of fresh grated Parmesan and Pecorino cheeses.

"This is heavenly." She moaned in pleasure, "As I was saying, you are abnormal, no wonder I am in such pain. It is like delivering a child, big is overrated when, "another bite of bread with olive pesto and a sip of lemonade. "Delicious, I could get used to this."

After she was fed, he brought a brush, to do what he wanted for months, to brush her hair.

"You will not make me change my mind, " he fed her the tiny chocolate éclairs his pastry chef had made for her; while he took all the kinks and snarls out her hair and kissed her scalp and neck, with an occasional nip and lick here and there making her arch in pleasure. "Maybe, maybe you might, hmm, are there any more pastries?" He smiled and reached for mouth, she sighed while the brush fell out his hand and went around her breast.

She moaned as his tongue traced the path to her belly, next to the place he wanted to be in. And as he had wished, he lapped his way until his head was between her thighs. "I like that as well," she whispered and made him try harder.

That was the only incentive he needed; finally he was going to have another chance.

Three days later, the couple emerged from her home. Lord Greyback Sr. served as the liaison between the chefs that work for him, and the new mated couple; keeping the pregnant witch happy and sated, in more ways than one.

Fenrir had told her about his love for her; told her of the days he discovered that she was his mate when he had snatched them, and how he had wished to kill Bellatrix. Told her of their secrets, and how old was his father. When she asked, "Fenrir, were you behind the attacks to all my beaus?" He looked the other way, and fed her the mini-lemon-cream rolls she liked so much.

"We need to be setting our formal wedding date, I need to speak to your father soon since you will be showing by the end of your second month." He presented her the Greyback wedding ring, last worn by Marie Louise. Hermione gently pushed it back into his hand.

"I still want to think about it, please let me take my time. Pregnancy isn't a valid reason for me to marry; modern witches can raise their children alone. You can participate if such is your wish; after all, they are also your babies. It is too soon to decide, and I want to make my own decisions." She pretended not to see the pain in the big wizard's eyes.

Hermione still did not understand that she was more than married, that she was his until the end of time. She was in severe denial and quite convincing; but still he tried to convince her to no avail and wanted to keep trying.

However, denial is a powerful agent, and Fenrir finally left her with his virtual tail between his legs; he wanted her desperately, and her smell was making him desire her more than before. He needed his father's help; and to tell him that the food and the shagging had not been enough. The hardened, and most evil of werewolves dried a tear or two upon leaving. Fenrir's heart full of sorrow because he loved his little bitch, and her rejection was breaking his heart.

Meanwhile, the boys had been spying upon the house, waiting for Hermione to emerge. As soon as Fenrir Apparated away, they came around a corner in time to catch her Hermione going out shopping.

**The Boys**

"Fancy meeting you here," Ron called to her, a worse actor you could not have found had you looked hard.

At the same moment, Luna, Ginny, and Neville were walking to visit Hermione and nearly ready to turn into their street. And when they saw Ron and Harry, Luna ran towards Ron, "Ronny, love, you should see the earrings my father bought for me. They go with the dress you bought me for our engagement party."

Harry gritted his teeth, "Engagement party, what is that all about?" he whispered by Rob's ear.

Rob turned red to match his hair, "Luna, how nice to see you, I will talk to you later, Harry and I have something to do, Hermione was coming with us; we have an important meeting."

He grabbed Hermione's hand to pull her away. This was all planned; he had a potion hidden in the palm of his hand. It would activate when making contact with Hermione's hand, and it would render her will into mush, and would blindly obey his commands.

They had purchased it in a 'boutique' in the now fashionable Knockturn Alley, at one of the old seedy places now re-invented into a little posh establishment that sold the same merchandise from before; it was all dark magic wrapped and packaged in pretty vials and papers.

The potion was made to work in a human female; and her friends forgot that Hermione was no longer fully human. Unfortunately, for all of them, the reaction was unexpected.

She felt very warm, and Ron looked exceptionally yummy. Disregarding all those around her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his life away. Luna's eyes were buggier than usual, as she watched in dismay how Ron closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

Harry was looking alarmed and tapped Hermione, who took her lips away from Ron for a second, and darn if that was not Harry. The memories of their better times came galloping into her fevered mind as wild horses in a spring day.

She turned towards Harry, and in front of the amazed friends, she held Harry with one arm and proceeded to kiss him; while Ron, was content with kissing her neck. Both former lovers hands roaming her body as if they were inside closed quarters.

This proved too much for Luna who ran away crying while Ginny turned into her husband's arms to hide her red face and to mutter her sorrow.

Remus and Bill had been waiting for the newly mated couple to give signs of life, and when Bill saw a dejected Fenrir coming into the yard of Happy Kittens, he asked, "What happened?" After Fenrir's short version, Bill promptly Apparated by Hermione's just with enough time to catch the last of the tri-way snogging act.

He found the trio going at it as if they were indoors. Bill smartly suspected Ron-Icky of foul play.

Ginny updated Bill of what she had seen, to the best of her knowledge. Afterwards, he growled and grabbed Ron by his neck pulling him away from Hermione. An oversweet smelled reached his sensitive nose, and he concluded it must be a potion, which was confirmed at observing the glow of Ron's hand.

"Harry, you too, right away, off the witch, what have you two idiots done?" Hermione appeared dazzled and snarled at Bill, and promptly tried to hook Harry by his neck again.

Lord Greyback Sr. made his appearance, and didn't need an explanation to figure out the 'boys' had done a misdeed. "What have these young nincompoops done? Don't they fear an angry wolf, or are they too stupid?"

After a few minutes the older wizards finally figured out what was in the potion, "Idiots, you could have killed her. How much did you use? It is poison for us, and if you harmed the pups, kiss your lives goodbye." Lord Greyback told them.

At that precise moment, Hermione's face turned green, and her legs gave from under her, Lord Greyback barely caught her and after snarling to the boys, "Stay away and pray she is fine if you value your lives." He Apparated away, holding Hermione close to his chest, his face pale and crossed with worry lines.

* * *

A/N There is one more chapter and it is finished, as much as I like it, I need to concentrate to finish all my open stories. Reviews are appreciated.


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